I was going to call this post “Speaking My Truth” but I decided my truth was actually THE truth, There are no perspectives here, despite certain people justifying their actions by using this as an excuse: it was what it was and that’s it.
I decided this year would be the year I would speak out, no longer hide the truth, the facts, notwithstanding how weak I might look to some, or how un-credible I might appear to others. One of my earlier posts introduced the subject and every now and then, I feel compelled to bring it up again. It’s part cleansing myself of the nastiness and part needing to let everyone know the truth of the matter. Because so many people still believe otherwise. I, however, have vowed to no longer be silent on the subject, and so I write this post.
As you know, I’m addicted to memes (yet another addiction!) and I found one today which brought a lot of things up from the deep emotional well in which they are buried. Here it is:
My personal emotional emancipation began the day I started speaking about my experience as a victim of domestic abuse. At first, I thought it was my opening up about my addiction to alcohol, but that really didn’t start the healing process for me because that was no secret. I wasn’t opening up and coming clean about my drinking, fuck, everyone knew about that! What people didn’t know about, which for years I was deeply ashamed of, and traumatized by, was the abuse I suffered at the hands of my last long-term relationship.
Speaking out about that was epic, peeps. And THAT is what started the healing ball rolling. Speaking out about that was when my life started to begin again. Admitting that I, a strong, independent, intelligent woman could be so browbeaten by someone so emotionally inferior to me was really hard to do, because I should have known better, I should have been able to stop it. One would think, right?
Well all the known facts today state otherwise, of course. But still, inside me I felt so ashamed and stupid I didn’t want anyone to know. But then something magical happened to me. I quit drinking, changed my lifestyle to vegan, started to write again and do my art again, and suddenly there was a part of me that WANTED to tell everyone. I wanted to scream it to the world. I wanted everyone to know he is NOT WHAT YOU THINK! I wanted everyone to beware of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I couldn’t be silent about it anymore.
It became of paramount importance that I tell the world just what I went through, and I was no longer ashamed to admit what happened because I realized I hadn’t actually let it happen to me, HE HAD DONE IT TO ME. There’s a difference.
Now, that being said, there are things I will never tell. Things that I will take to my grave. There is enough material to be made public that those super private things don’t need to be announced. Maybe keeping those secrets will impede my healing, I don’t know. Maybe one day, I will speak of them, but not today. Not tomorrow.
In the meantime, this evil, vile man roams the streets, interacting with people as if NOTHING happened; acting as if he is the victim! His psychotic rants and diatribes aren’t aimed at me anymore, as far as I know, although I’m sure I resurface in there now and then as he extolls on his “perspective” (his perspective is fucked, his mind is like a rubix cube shuffled then stepped on by a rhino. His rants always reflected that). Facebook was his favourite place to vilify me while I was with him, and all his friends would sympathize and click “like” and say things like “there are more fish in the sea, brother”…(so I’m a fish??) and NO ONE knew the reality because I didn’t play those social media games. I didn’t publicly retaliate. I kept quiet and fought the battles privately, behind closed doors.
Him, though, he is so convinced he is right that he puts it out there publicly and challenges people to “show me I’m wrong” (ugh i so remember these posts) and then because no one engages in his insane tirade, he assumes he has once again proven himself most knowledgeable and therefore superior in his rhetoric.
And all his “followers” have no idea of the reality, of the psychosis, of the irrationality. He’d make a good cult leader, actually, now I think about it. Except he doesn’t have the ambition to follow through on anything, he has no sense of commitment or ethics, and prefers to drop projects half way through blaming someone or something else for his failure. A perpetual victim whilst sustaining his appetite to be the victimizer – because believe me, someone was victimized by him during this – client, friend, lover, someone.
That’s why I occasionally drop a post in about this part of my life, about him and what I suffered at his hands. I have to, peeps. It’s always with me. It never goes away. Every single fucking day I think of him or something he did. I try to put it out of my mind, I do. Mostly I’m successful, but it’s always there. His repugnant presence invades my peace of mind daily and nightly. I’ve never hated anyone in my life; but I hate him.
And I don’t think that’s going to change.
And now some well-meaning peeps are going to suggest therapy. This is my therapy, guys. My letting people know about what happened to me, about him, is all the therapy I need. Just knowing maybe one more person knows the truth is the best therapy I could have.
I don’t want to end this on a sad note, because I am not sad, at all. (Depressed, yes, but that’s chronic) I’m on a better path now; I’m realizing things, gaining friends, developing ambitions I never knew I had. It’s just every now and then, I wake up and I think, I have to talk about it again.
Thanks for listening. And be careful around him. He’s dangerous.